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Sandino Appears on the Scene,
1926-1928
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Formidable as these were, none of these bandits would be called the most
feared man in Nicaragua; for that title could be claimed only by Augusto C.
Sandino. Of medium height, slender, almost frail in appearance, Sandino did
not look like a practicing criminal. As a matter of fact, he was not a mere
outlaw but rather a zealot in the cause of Nicaraguan Liberalism. A native of
Nicaragua, he left for Mexico while still a young man. There, he toiled for a
time in the oil fields, then joined Pancho Villa's band of rebels. During his
stay in Mexico, he imbibed a heady draught of Central American nationalism
along with the aperitif of social reform. By the time he left Mexico, he had
become a fanatic in the cause of Liberalism. Unfortunately, members of that
party refused to accept him.
In May 1926, Sandino raised the flag of rebellion against the Chamorro
government. After numerous brushes with government troops, he marched his
band of 40 men to Puerto Cabezas, where he obtained 40 rifles and a supply of
ammunition from one of Moncada's satellite generals. Thus equipped, the band
marched westward and wrested the town of Jinotega from government troops.
Shortly before the armistice, Sandino joined Moncada's forces and, on the
strength of his victory, was welcomed as a brother in arms.
At the time of Stimson's mission to Nicaragua, Sandino apparently was not
as vehemently opposed to the United States as he later became. Like many
other Liberals, he felt that a fair election, even if supervised by American
Marines, would automatically insure the victory of his party. When Stimson
insisted that Diaz continue in office as interim President until the next
election, Sandino balked. Refusing to turn in his weapons as Moncada had
ordered, he struck out toward the vastness of Neuva Segovia. He was
determined to crush the Marines, rally the Liberals behind him, and destroy
forever Conservative power in Nicaragua. Moncada branded the rebel as a
bandit, a name which was adopted by the Marines.
During the time that Sandino was gathering strength to resist the
Americans, Marines of the Second Brigade continued to patrol the Nicaraguan
countryside. Gradually, the Brigade inched its tentacles into bandit territory
to determine just what course of action Sandino would follow. In May, after
Sandino had been served with an ultimatum to surrender, a Marine patrol, led
by Captain Gilbert D. Hatfield, left Matagalpa to probe the territory of Neuva
Segovia.
Hatfield's patrol established a post at Ocotal and settled down to await
Sandino's next move. In July, the First Company, Guardia National de
Nicaragua, arrived at Ocotal to bring the strength of the garrison to 3 Marine
officers, 2 officers of the Guardia, 38 enlisted Marines, and 48 native
Nicaraguan guardsmen. The townspeople, most of them in sympathy with Sandino,
carefully kept their distance. Valuables disappeared from sight, as a pall of
impending doom settled over Ocotal.
Captain Hatfield read these portents correctly. On 15 July, he doubled
the guard and prepared his men for the worst. The worst was not long in
coming. Throughout the evening, Sandino's rebels, by twos and threes, slipped
quietly into Ocotal. At 0115, 16 July, a Marine sentry saw something moving
in the shadowy street and fired the first shot of the engagement.
The advantage of surprise lost, the rebels attacked at once; but in the
first few minutes, three headlong rushes were beaten back by the Marines. The
rebels fell back to regroup; only the sporadic crack of snipers' bullets broke
the tense silence of the night. As the sun soared into the sky, both sides
again cut loose with every available weapon. At about 0800, the rebels
demanded Hatfield's surrender. His refusal to yield brought no all-out
assault; instead, firing gradually tapered off until only Sandino's snipers
remained active.
Daylight also had brought aircraft. Two planes circled Ocotal at
midmorning. After interpreting the panels laid out by Hatfield, Lieutenant
Hayne Boyden landed near Ocotal, collared a local peasant, and from him
learned the seriousness of the situation. He then climbed back into the plane
and, after a few quick passes, returned to Managua to get help. Meanwhile,
Chief Marine Gunner Michael Wodarczyk had kept strafing the rebels until his
ammunition was exhausted.
This aerial foray gave the rebels a taste of what was to come. At 1435,
a flight of five DeHavillands, led by Major Ross E. Rowell, appeared over
Ocotal. Each plane carried a load of bombs, a tactical innovation unknown to
Sandino's horde. Steeling themselves for another strafing attack, the rebels
were stupified as the fragile biplanes nosed over at an altitude of a thousand
feet. Most of the rebels fled from the bombing attack; but a handful
continued firing from behind a stone wall until outflanked by Hatfield's men.
The bodies of 56 rebels were recovered. Approximately twice that number were
wounded. Marine losses were surprisingly light considering the initial fury
of the assault; one dead and five wounded.<59>
Actually, the attack on the Ocotal garrison did not hit General Feland as
a complete surprise. On 2 July, Rear Admiral Julian L. Latimer had ordered
General Feland to take the offensive against the bandits. A strong
patrol--some 225 Marines and Guardias--under Major Oliver Floyd, had been
given the task of spear-heading the operation. Because of time lost in
rounding up enough pack animals and bull-carts, the expedition did not get
underway until 15 July. Its destination was the San Albino Mine, which
Sandino had seized and apparently was operating.
In spite of the knowledge that Sandino was in control of the greater part
of Nueva Segovia, the Americans continued to look upon him as just another
border outlaw and, as a result, underestimated both his strength and the zeal
of his followers. This attitude helps explain the fact that during the month
of July, the 11th Regiment ceased its operations and sailed from Nicaragua for
the United States.
Sandino, however, was more than an outlaw. On 17 July, while at
Trinidad, Major Floyd learned of the encounter at Ocotal. Dividing the
patrol, Floyd sent 50 men off toward Ocotal. Once the entire group had
arrived there, the Neuva Segovia expedition would begin a series of patrol
operations designed to scatter and demoralize the bandits. Riding boldly into
the untamed territory, Floyd's men found themselves completely on their own.
Afraid of both bandits and Americans, fiercely loyal to Sandino, the native
population melted away to the hills as the column approached.
Near the town of San Fernando, the Marines ran into an ambush manned by
about 40 Sandinistas. One Marine was wounded and 11 rebels were killed.
Another clash occurred after the expedition had cleared San Fernando, but
Jicaro was occupied without meeting opposition. On 1 August, the expedition
arrived at the mines. Sandino had vanished. Intelligence officers of the 5th
Regiment, however, had learned of a place called El Chipote, a mountain
fortress which served as Sandino's lair; and Floyd was ordered to discover and
attack the stronghold.
Upon reaching San Albino, Floyd-began questioning the villagers. He may
have misinterpreted their comments, or they may have been covering for
Sandino; at any rate, the Major reached the conclusion that El Chipote was
purely imaginary, a mere symbol of the rebel leader's might. Nevertheless,
Marine patrols doggedly scoured the countryside to no avail. Since the
approaching rainy season would disrupt line of supply and because his command
was by no means self-sustaining, Floyd decided to withdraw as soon as
possible. On 14 August, the Major posted a garrison under 1st Lieutenant
George J. O'Shea at Jicaro and left for Ocotal. After turning the expedition
over to Captain Victor F. Bleasdale, he departed for Managua, secure in his
belief that Sandino's power had been crushed.<60>
In spite of the presence of a garrison at Jicaro, the region was not yet
pacified. Not even the most vigilant patrols could turn up any trace of
Sandino, but there was one brush with the rebels on 18 August near the village
of Murra.<61>
A 21-man patrol, under 1st Lieutenant George J. O'Shea, started from
Jicaro along the trail toward Quilali. Late in the afternoon of 1 September,
while still about five miles from Quilali, the patrol spotted riflemen moving
along the trail. Others were flushed from a house about 1,000 yards distant.
The Marines camped for the night about two miles from Quilali. Early the
following morning, a handful of rebels were spotted prowling the outskirts of
the camp. An alert sentry drove them off into the underbrush. O'Shea's
approach to the town was cautious. At the edge of Quilali, the Marines fired
on four natives, each with a rifle, who were leading a pack mule. Cutting
loose their supplies, the rebels fled with the animal. In the abandoned pack
were supplies destined for Sandino. A search of the deserted houses disclosed
copies of Sandino's latest proclamations and a letter to the rebels' leader
from his quartermaster.
On 3 September, the patrol returned to Jicaro. All along the route, farm
houses lay empty. There were no men to be found in the region. All this
evidence pointed to a massing of rebel strength near Quilali. O'Shea himself
was now convinced that Chipote indeed was a fortress. Although the local
inhabitants would tell him nothing, the Marine officer guessed that the
encampment was situated on the flat land between the base of a hill on the
Murra River and the village of Manchones. Most certainly, the hill itself
served as Sandino's redoubt.<62>
Gradually, the truth was dawning. The Americans, Marines and diplomats,
in Nicaragua were coming to realize that Sandino had a great deal of popular
support in the wild northern provinces. Even though they persisted in calling
him a bandit, they recognized that he was a rebel determined to overthrow the
coalition government. The initiative lay with Sandino, secure in his
stronghold at Chipote. In mid-September he was to strike again.
Some two hundred rebels, led by Sandino's most trusted lieutenants,
collected on the outskirts of the village of Telpaneca. Stationed in the town
were 20 Marines and 25 soldiers of the Guardia Nacional, under the command of
1st Lieutenant Herbert S. Keimling. At 0100 on the morning of 19 September,
one of Sandino's men tossed a homemade dynamite bomb toward the rear of the
Marines' quarters. The blast shook the men from their bunks. As they were
scrambling into their clothes, the enemy opened fire.
Two groups of rebels charged the buildings where the defenders were
quartered, but they were beaten back. Both Guardia and Marines had held firm
in spite of the initial surprise. The fog began to lift at about 0230, and
within half an hour the enemy had begun to collect his dead and wounded. By
dawn, all was quiet. During the fight, one Marine had been killed; a second
died of wounds the same day. One member of the Guardia was seriously wounded.
As nearly as Lieutenant Leimling could tell, about 25 of Sandino's troops had
been killed and twice that number wounded.<63>
Although Marine infantry and foot soldiers of the Guardia had done most
of the fighting and dying that summer, Leatherneck aviators were far from
idle. Theirs was no easy life. Maps, inadequate even for ground
reconnaissance, could easily prove fatal to the pilot of a fragile biplane,
low on fuel, limping over the hostile mountains. The same terrain which
proved a constant worry to aviators was an impossible obstacle to supply
specialists. Twisting trails, steep grades, and dense underbrush ideal for
ambush combined to make life for the quartermaster a prolonged nightmare.
With garrisons scattered all over Neuva Segovia, patrols constantly on the
move, and the better trails impassable except to bull carts, a large share of
the burden of supply, communication, and scouting had to be shouldered by
Marine aviation.
Little could be done in the way of carrying bulk supplies during the
summer of 1927, for the creaking DeHavillands simply were not big enough. In
December of that year, the Brigade was lucky enough to obtain a trimotor
Fokker transport capable of hauling 1,300 pounds of cargo. By 29 August 1928,
five of these rugged craft were in service. Everything from cigarettes to
mules were delivered by air; in fact, some remote outposts received payrolls
by airdrop.
As far as the initial phase of the campaign was concerned. the
contributions of aviation lay mainly in the fields of combat support, as at
Ocotal, communications, and scouting. By displaying cloth panels in a
pre-arranged manner, a ground detachment could call for supplies, air support,
medical assistance, or simply inform the pilot that there was no change in the
situation. True, it often was difficult to locate a handful of khaki-clad men
moving along a dusty trail; but all in all, the airplane provided a vital link
in the system of communication. Less successful was aerial reconnaissance.
Sandino's men were adept at camouflage. Seldom did they move in large groups,
and, if at all possible, they marched at night.<64>
Victims to the cruel Nicaraguan school of warfare were 2d Lieutenant Earl
A. Thomas and Sergeant Frank E. Dowdell. While patrolling east of Quilali on
8 October 1927, their plane and another piloted by Gunner Michael Wodarczyk
attacked one of Sandino's pack trains. The rebels fired back with rifles.
Apparently Thomas' plane was hit, for 15 minutes later, at a point three miles
west of Quilali and one mile south of the Jicaro River, his craft crashed and
burst into flames. Wodarczyk swooped low over the wreckage, dropped them a
map, and notified the garrisons at both Jicaro and Ocotal of their plight.
At 1220, roughly three hours after the crash, reconnaissance aircraft
circled the area. Save for the charred skeleton of the plane, they saw
nothing. Trails were deserted; there was not a living thing within miles of
the wreckage. Neither Thomas nor Dowdell was seen again. What was their
fate? As nearly as Marine intelligence officers could determine, the pair had
left the scene of the crash to avoid capture. Nearby, they had encountered
two natives and forced them to lead them towards Jicaro. The guides turned on
them, and one of the fliers was wounded. Carrying his injured companion, the
unwounded aviator made his way to a cave. There Sandino's men found them.<65>
When Gunner Wodarczyk's plane screamed low over Jicaro and dropped its
urgent message, the greater part of the garrison was absent on a routine
patrol to Ocotal. Realizing that the fliers were in grave danger, Lieutenant
O'Shea, the local commander, recalled the column. O'Shea decided not to wait
for the return of the Ocotal patrol; and at 1245, little more than an hour
after he had received the message, he rode out of Jicaro. With him were Navy
Surgeon John B. O'Neill, 8 Marines, and 10 members of the Guardia Nacional.
The following morning, the relief expedition reached a point three miles
northwest of Quilali and halted to await further instructions from
reconnaissance planes. Within a short time, a message came tumbling down
informing him that the plane lay on Sapotillal Ridge, only three miles distant
in a straight line to the northwest. Map distance, however, meant nothing in
Nicaragua. O'Shea had to march for three and a quarter hours before reaching
the base of the ridge. Slowly the patrol eased its way up the slope. The
point had moved about one hundred yards, when the enemy opened fire. A force
numbering about two hundred stood between the Marines and their objective.
Since there was plenty of cover, the officer had decided to advance by
fire and maneuver; but before he could make his move, a smaller group of
Sandinistas, located on a rise about one hundred yards to his right rear,
began blazing away. Training and discipline paid off, as O'Shea wheeled his
men about and attacked the smaller force. Firing as they moved, the Marines
and Guardia hammered their way out of the trap.
Definitely on the defensive now, O'Shea struck out along the devious
trail that led eventually to San Albino. So far, Lieutenant O'Shea had clung
tenaciously to the trail; and for good reason, since his compass was lost and
his native guides had vanished amid the confusion of battle. Before
reinforcements could be hurled against him, the lieutenant veered sharply to
the left and led his men into a steep ravine. Swallowed up by the
brush-choked gulch, the patrol slipped undetected through the rebel cordon.
With the aid of a food-drop on the morning of 10 October, the ill-fated patrol
arrived at Jicaro later that day.<66>
The opposition which had greeted O'Shea's column was proof that the
fortress of Chipote did indeed exist. Furthermore, the estimate of rebel
strength was doubled to 400. Colonel Louis M. Gulick, who had succeeded
General Feland as Brigade commander, now expected a long and difficult
campaign. At Sapotilla, the enemy had fought bravely; and this one taste of success, even though bought at
high cost, would whet his appetite for war. Aided by the terrain--raging
rivers, narrow trails, rugged mountains, and dense cover--400 determined men
could tie up an army many times their number. There was, however, one bright
spot in an otherwise somber picture, for the Guardia had fought expertly. If
enough volunteers could be found, this organization could prove of immense
value in putting down Sandino's rebellion.<67>
Although realizing that the two downed airmen were probably beyond help,
Marine commanders were determined, at least, to learn their fate. Two
separate patrols were dispatched to the area. One, composed of 25 enlisted
Marines, 3 Guardia officers, and 40 Nicaraguan troops under the command of 1st
Lieutenant Moses J. Gould; the second group, led by Lieutenant Clarence J.
Chappell.
Not until 30 October was Gould able to reach the site of the crash. The
machine guns had been removed, but the motor and other metal parts were
intact. All fabric, of course, had been burned. The following day, the
combined patrols passed through Quilali. On the morning of 1 November, near
the village of Espino some six miles southeast of Jicaro. Gould's column
tangled with a force of about 250 rebels. Save for one man nicked in the arm
by fragments from a dynamite bomb, the Marines emerged unscathed from the
35-minute fire fight. The Guardia detachment, commanded by 2d Lieutenant
Robert E. Hogaboom, was not so fortunate for two of its members were killed by
rifle fire. The enemy was thought to have lost 60 killed and wounded.<68>
The Marines, however, were not always on the defensive. On the morning
of 10 November, the detachment of Telpaneca learned that Porfirio Sanchez with
40 rebels was camping near San Juan, only ten miles distant. A patrol under
Lieutenant J.H. Satterfield, G.N., located the camp and at 0500, attacked.
Five rebels were killed at no loss to the attackers.<69>
In addition to pacifying the outlying provinces, Marines also were called
upon to supervise the local elections held along the east coast beginning in
November. The most interesting result of these contests was the fact that
local Liberals became fast friends of the Marines. The reason was obvious.
Since the election was at least moderately honest, the more numerous Liberals
could not help but win. A final tribute to the impartiality and zeal of the
Marines, who kept order along the coast, came on 6 January 1928, when the
victorious Liberals, many of them men who had opposed the intervention,
petitioned President Diaz to place a Marine officer in charge of the
Bluefields police department.<70>
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